


Normalcy Involves Aliens, Not Lawnmowers

by DinoDina



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Aliens, Audio 029: Serenity (Torchwood), Communication, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Guilt, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 06:37:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20616623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinoDina/pseuds/DinoDina
Summary: Everything seemed to be back to normal after their return from Serenity Plaza, but Ianto had no idea how to deal with it. He killed Jack - he couldn't act as if nothing had happened.





	Normalcy Involves Aliens, Not Lawnmowers

Ianto had begged off for the night, citing the day's work as a reason for early tiredness. The previous night, he'd told Jack his head hurt. The night before, he'd made the excuse of having no food at home. Before that, a timely Rift alert had distracted Jack before he could offer to take Ianto back to his flat.

He didn't dislike going home alone. After their time undercover at Serenity Plaza, Ianto quite liked having his own space. But it was odd: going to bed, having nightmares—memories, ones he always ignored, filled with metal men and chaos and Lisa—, not having Jack by his side when he woke up in a cold sweat.

Ianto had to turn over, pull the blanket more securely around him, and close his eyes without hearing a supportive word; he did precisely that and hoped that the next time he saw Jack, it would be when they met for breakfast before work, not in his next nightmare.

Ianto had no such luck, but the summer sun was already up when he awoke; being greeted by light was infinitely better than by darkness. There was something about it—Ianto thought that his not-quite-fear of the dark came from knowing exactly what waited for him there. Weevils, other aliens... there were so many records in the archives, each more terrifying than the last.

He dressed reluctantly, only realizing he was running late when he received a text from Jack. Right. They had plans. Ignoring the second part of Jack's text—an offer to drive him—Ianto grabbed his keys and wallet and dashed out of the flat.

Breakfast consisted of coffee and pastries at a cafe near the Plass. Jack carried on his usual stream of conversation while Ianto ate; it was normal enough for Ianto to relax and make proper eye contact with Jack for the first time in over a week.

Jack's eyes were gorgeous. Seeing them light up when Jack talked, crinkling at the corners when Jack laughed—it was nothing like seeing them open when Jack came back to life. Ianto had been seeing nothing but that for the past week. Jack falling back, dead. The fear, the betrayal in his eyes instead of the usual kindness.

Ianto smiled weakly and nodded at whatever Jack had said. Whatever comfort he'd just gained, thinking of Jack dying had ruined it. He could barely focus.

At some point, Ianto vaguely noticed Jack's smile dimming, but he couldn't quite focus on it. In his head, he was saying "I'm sorry" and "It's okay, I'm still listening"; in reality, he and Jack were standing, throwing away their trash, and heading for the Hub.

The team was already there and Ianto silently thanked them for it. He headed to the coffee machine amidst thankful smiles, ignoring the dejected look Jack sent him.

Ianto had an excuse ready when he approached Jack at his desk with the coffee. "Your call to the PM is waiting."

Jack threw him a look. Ianto was under no impression that he was being inconspicuous anymore; Jack was too experienced to be fooled for so long.

Ianto did the next best thing and threw him a smile before retreating to the archives. It wasn't running away, not really. He had work to do there. There was work in the tourist office and on the main floor of the Hub, too, but not as important. The archives weren't going to organize themselves.

What was going on between him and Jack wasn't going to fix itself, either. Ianto _knew_ that, but he was so used to ignoring the problems that came up in their relationship, he didn't know where to start.

"Hi, Jack, sorry I killed you," while completely accurate and succinct, seemed like a bad conversation starter. Not to mention the fact that Jack was acting as if nothing had happened. Typical in their relationship, of course, but it _had_ happened, and now Ianto could barely look at himself in the mirror.

There were no mirrors in the archives—no Jack, either, and for once Ianto found that a welcome change. He turned on his computer and got to work, hoping for the day to be filled with mind-numbing paperwork or hostile aliens. Anything to keep him occupied.

Ianto was happily cataloguing when he felt Jack behind him. The clodhoppers and pheromones made Jack's sneaking difficult, but Ianto was effectively cornered. He took a deep breath that he hoped Jack didn't notice and turned around.

"You should know better than trying to sneak up on me by now," he said, aiming for flirty and nonchalant but knowing that Jack had gotten much closer than usual.

"You know me," Jack said with his usual grin, " I'm a risk-taker."

Ianto hummed his agreement. He didn't know how to continue the conversation because he wanted to turn back around, because he didn't want to look at Jack and imagine him dead, because he didn't understand how Jack could act as if nothing had happened.

"So," Jack said, undeterred, when Ianto was quiet for far too long, "want to get lunch?"

"I have to..." he gestured vaguely around but trailed off when he thought about it. "Never mind. Yeah. Let's go."

It was hardly Jack's fault that Ianto had killed him. It was Ianto's. It was one thing to betray him for love, to send him into slavery on an alien planet, to stand with the rest of the team as they betrayed him; it was another to be the one to pull the trigger. Ianto wished that Jack understood.

They exited the Hub without talking, but it was an easy silence. Once up on the Plass, they linked hands and quietly continued the walk. It felt almost normal. Not normal in the way they'd just pretended to be, with perfect lawns and fences, but _their_ normal.

Ianto remembered friends in London—all long since dead, but he tried not to think about that—who had settled into comfortable relationships and were attempting to live together. Bad habits and incompatible routines had been their demise. All couples struggled when they moved in together, when they began to define their relationship.

Living with Jack had been easy—it _was_ easy, as they'd been cohabitating for so long almost accidentally—and not even the possibility of a nearby Sleeper agent could put a damper on that. Jack had teased about Ianto's house-pride and scoffed at being boyfriends, but Ianto reportedly hogged the sheets and got too distracted when he cooked; Jack's attempt at domesticity had worked, despite the aliens and explosions.

Ianto tried to relax and enjoy having Jack's hand in his. And it worked, for the most part, as Jack started talking and Ianto listened, chiming in with a question or exclamation when needed.

No longer being Ken and Ifan had its perks. He didn't have to constantly smile and cook. For a moment, Ianto imagined if he hadn't killed Jack: they wouldn't be ignoring the whole mission and Jack would be lightly teasing him about spending weeks as a Stepford wife.

Jack, after half an hour—not that Ianto was counting, but they were getting lunch for the team, not going on a date—held Ianto's free hand across the table. Once, Ianto would have been embarrassed. Dating Jack was by no means easy, but he never challenged Ianto's boundaries and comfort level when it came to the important things—it was easy to become more comfortable with openness and affection, especially with Jack by his side.

But when he looked into Jack's eyes in a way that could easily be called loving, the moment slipped away and he was back at Serenity Plaza, looking down at Jack, and then he was back at the Hub, looking down at Lisa.

Flushing, he met Jack's eyes and resolutely kept their hands linked.

Jack noticed. Of course he did. He played the charming fool, hamming it up for whoever was watching, but Ianto hadn't ever met a more perceptive person or one more suited to leadership.

Jack didn't comment, and Ianto didn't, either; he simply gave Jack's hand a weak squeeze and tried to continue eating without replaying the worst moments of his life in his head.

Despite the relative peace at lunch, when Ianto and Jack returned to the Hub, the claxon rang with a Rift alert and Ianto grabbed the food lest he be ordered into the field and forced to wield a weapon in Jack's proximity.

He felt Jack's disappointment echoed in his own chest, but Torchwood came first. Ianto wasn't about to compromise them in the field.

By the time Jack and Owen came back, Ianto was holed up in the archives, and, although the dim and echoing tunnels brought hack unwelcome memories, Ianto pressed on: it was nothing he hadn't been dealing with in his dreams.

Time passed, of course, but Ianto was far too focused on avoiding the memories to even file effectively, so didn't notice Jack coming up behind him until his name was called.

"Rift alert," he said brusquely, already turning around. "Everyone else has gone home, so come on."

Ianto followed, happy that Jack hadn't wanted to talk about emotions but terrified at the thought of going out into the field with him. His thoughts were still going around in circles when he joined Jack in the SUV, spinning him into a downward spiral of guilt.

Jack meanwhile spun the SUV into a turn and Ianto bounced off the side of the car. He threw Jack an annoyed look. "Where are we even going?"

"Alley a few streets away."

Ianto nodded and wondered why he even bothered asking. All these years and Jack could still hardly name the streets around them, though his sense of direction was impeccable. Perhaps it was stubbornness; maybe he'd gotten tired of keeping up with the changing street names.

Jack threw the SUV into a stop and Ianto barely had time to recover before he followed Jack out.

Ianto was used to dingy alleyways and unsavory characters—it came with the job. Likewise, he was used to following Jack into said alleys, staying a step behind him but always anticipating his plan. Ianto slipped seamlessly into the role: earpiece in, gun in hand, and Jack going full-speed ahead in front of him.

Foolhardy, but it always worked.

Except when Ianto entered the alley, Jack already had a gun held to his head by a blowfish—an angry, temporally displaced blowfish who had not lost any viciousness in the confusion, and whose mouth was open to mock Ianto into missing the shot.

Jack stood tall and confident; what was a misfire when Ianto had already killed him point-blank?

His hands shook.

The blowfish smiled.

Ianto could take the shot. He could have taken it months ago had jack not blundered in. A dozen scenarios played through Ianto' head, each worse than the last, and time was running out. Ianto wanted to close his eyes and open them to find everything fixed.

He couldn't take the shot Jack was expecting him to take. Not again.

Ianto begged the tremors to go away, just for a second, then aimed and fired. Jack and the blowfish dropped at the same moment that Ianto's hands went slack and the gun fell to the ground.

He ran to Jack on instinct—a proper Torchwood agent would check on the blowfish—and got to his side just as Jack sat up, grabbed his hand, and nodded.

"I knew you could do it."

Ianto shook his head in bewilderment but held on tight. Jack was supposed to be dead. But all worked out. That was what he'd said at Serenity Plaza, watching it explode around them: they could survive in the face of all impossible odds.

Even cleaning up the dead blowfish without having time to fully communicate. It was a rehearsed dance, anyway: tarp in the boot, dead alien on the tarp, Jack in the driver's seat, Ianto clearing traffic lights to speed up the journey and prevent the smell from settling.

Once in the Hub, with the blowfish cleared away, Ianto almost felt ready to go into Jack's office. He was building up the courage to do so when Jack's phone rang—a meeting that Ianto had arranged, just in time for him to escape to the archives. Ianto sighed and shot Jack an apologetic look; the brief respite had made him forget his guilt, but now it was back and he retreated downstairs.

He just needed some time to think.

Ianto knew that this new betrayal was hardly worse than anything else. He had been so angry with John Hart for killing Jack, angry at anyone who hurt Jack not only physically but by reminding him of the curse of immortality; now the world was upside-down and he didn't know what to think.

The call wasn't going to take long; Ianto knew he had about that much time until Jack followed him down to the archives.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Are you going home again tonight?" Jack asked when he found the room Ianto was in, but Ianto was sure there was more to it. "I'm just asking because I wanted to know if you wanted to do something tonight at my flat. Dinner?"

Ianto, off-guard, wondered if he could tell Jack he'd recently gotten a dog and needed to feed it.

Jack's face fell by a fraction. "Unless you need to look after your neighbor's cat or fish or snake or child?"

Sighing, Ianto met Jack's eyes. He looked more resolved than at lunch, more ready for a fight—more ready for answers. "So you've noticed the excuses?

The catty 'I'm not _that_ stupid' look Jack sent him filled Ianto with an awkward shame. "You know I'd understand if you don't want to spend time with me. We _did_ just live together. I thought it worked, but if it didn't and you want some space…"

"It's not that," Ianto began lamely, but trailed off just as Jack had. Just like at breakfast, he felt trapped, the cold shelves behind him and Jack's confusion—sadness?—in front of him. Now, it was uncomfortable to even think of making fun of Jack's tone. The insults—all delivered with a vicious humor to mask concern and sometimes true anger—were an equal match to Ianto's defensive sarcasm. Besides, he'd killed Jack. He more than deserved it.

"Are you upset, then?" Jack asked. "With me?"

"No—"

"Was it the hangover song?"

"No—"

"The boyfriend stuff? Because I—"

"No, it's not _you_."

"I know. It's _you_, but you're upset, and the only thing I can think of is me. Because we've spent—I don't know—too much time together? Did I laugh at you too much? Was it my comment about being open to an orgy? Because I don't mean it. Not if you wouldn't also be there." Jack paused; Ianto wasn't quite sure if he should be flattered. Unable to place the look on Jack's face, he didn't say anything. "Are you seeing someone?"

"You."

"You know what I mean. I'm not seeing anyone else, I told you, but you never—if I assumed—"

"Of course not! Jack—"

Ianto cut himself off. He'd never imagined being on the accusation's receiving end, least of all from Jack. There was no one else for him, had been no one else since he first kissed Jack outside the Ferret, no matter what he'd promised himself.

"Of course not," he repeated emphatically, still shocked at the question itself. "It's never even crossed my mind."

"Then what—"

"I killed you, Jack!"

The admission fell from his lips and the temperature seemed to drop. A lump settled in Ianto's throat and his eyes burned with angry tears that he would never let fall.

In the moment, it had seemed like the right choice. But why had he made the stupid quip for Jack to revive quicker next time? He hadn't even meant it—there wasn't going to _be_ a next time—especially because he regretted the action as soon as the dust had settled. Too scared to bring it up, he'd actually been prepared to ignore it—not that the plan had been going well—, but clearly Jack hadn't bought it.

He also had yet to say anything.

Ianto shot him a look clearly saying _Well?_ and expecting the worst, but Jack just sighed and nodded. "You did."

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Jack smiled kindly; for a second, Ianto wasn't sure if his boss or partner was talking. "You made the right choice. As a Torchwood agent. You acted quickly and thought of the bigger picture."

"A Torchwood agent," Ianto echoed grimly. "What about as myself? As… you know…"

"As my _boyfriend_?" There was a playful note in Jack's tone at the word, but his eyes remained sincere.

Although unsure of how to feel about that, Ianto nodded.

"I understand. Owen did it, too, remember?"

Ianto snorted morbidly. "That's a bit different." He smoothed down his suit. "Were you—do you know if you actually were—"

"A Sleeper? I don't know. You don't know if you _are_ until you're activated. You did the right thing." A pause, then Jack moved closer, keeping his body language open. "Can I ask why?"

Ianto knew the answer but shook it away. The memories had been so vivid for the past week. He needed to stay in the moment, stay with Jack, and remember that he was safe now, that he was in Cardiff. He took Jack's outstretched hand.

"I didn't do it when I had to," he said at last. "Here, with Lisa… I didn't take the shot. I risked another invasion, I caused—Canary Wharf was the worst day of my life. Death is one thing, but Cybermen don't want death. And we thought the goal of Cell 114 was to destroy the human race, which is pretty run-of-the mill around here. But they wanted to _use_ it. To use us. The mass conversion, all at once, all those people—I'd risked it once, I couldn't do it again. We had to stop them."

He looked down and saw his hand clasped too tightly around Jack's, grounding him. It would be so easy to slip back into the past. He stepped closer; Jack met him there and Ianto sank into the embrace, and as he closed his eyes, he knew that when he opened them, Canary Wharf would be gone.

Jack would still be there. Maybe in several hours or several days, Ianto would be holding him and the memories at hand would be Jack's—death and betrayal—but for now they could sink back into the blissful ignorance and pretend to be normal. Not the strange, perverted normal of Serenity Plaza, but _their_ normal, with all its humor and comfort and aliens.

Maybe it would change. They changed as people, after all. And Ianto knew that one thing was certain: he would never hurt Jack like that again. Guilt aside, killing Jack had felt _wrong_; he needed to be there for Jack, not cause him more pain. Although he knew that they would have their ups and downs—what couple didn't?—Ianto would never kill him again.

**Author's Note:**

> I loved Serenity! But I just needed to work through some things - like Ianto killing Jack. So this is my attempt at figuring out what was going on. To be honest, I had more of an idea back when I started writing, then it went away for a bit, so hopefully it's still coherent. Many thanks to gmariam for talking me through the audio.  
Thanks for reading! :D


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